Untold Unfortunate Events
by SmartEagle
Summary: This story is based on Book the Eighth, The Hostile Hospital. From the time she is captured until the time she is rescued, we never are told what exactly happens to Violet. For those who were wonderin, here is my take on these events.


**Author's Note:**Perhaps this will explain some things, or perhaps it will be just a fun story for any Series of Unfortunate Events fan. If you haven't read them before, read them now! They're pretty witty and fast-paced. The eighth book is my favorite. This is my very first story on fan fiction, so please honestly tell me what you think.

**Disclaimer:** With all due respect to Lemony Snicket (Daniel Handler), none of these names are of my own invention.

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**U n t o l d U n f o r t u n a t e E v e n t s**

"Be safe," Violet whispered in a terrified voice, listening to the sound of her siblings scrambling up the paper chute. As she turned around to plan her own escape, another row of file cabinets toppled in front of her, sending pictures of lions and reports on Lexington flying in all directions. Violet gasped as a sickeningly sweet voice cooed from behind.

"Oh, there you are, Violet. Dear, dear, are you… _trapped_?" Esmé said in false sympathy, failing to hide her note of glee. "Say, where are the rest of the Baudelaire brats?" She staggered towards Violet. "Did your bookworm brother and that biting baby abandon you?"

While Esmé struggled to reach her, Violet spotted a gap between two fallen cabinets and ducked under it. She would her way through the maze of metal boxes, leaving Esmé far behind. Now that she was left by herself she would have to find her own way out of the library, if there was, in fact, another one. Which I am most sorry to say, there was not.

"Come back here!" Esmé screeched. "Don't think that you can get away! Because nobody can escape Esmé Gigi Genevieve Squalor and her darling Count Olaf!"

Violet shuddered at that thought, but kept running down the aisles. If she could reach the door before her pursuer did, she figured, she had at least a chance of getting to the unfinished half of Heimlich Hospital without being noticed by any other troupe members, which were undoubtedly at the hospital, too. She turned right, hopefully headed towards her ultimate goal, only to find the path blocked by the destruction.

"I can hear you running!" Esmé shouted, moving towards Violet. "You can't hide from me!"

Knowing how perilous, a word which means "very, very dangerous, with little chance of surviving," the situation was, Violet darted back and dashed down a passage in the other direction. Once again, an inclining cabinet stood in her way. If this kept up much longer, her life would reach a dead end, too.

The sound of clumsy footsteps drew nearer. Violet returned yet again to the crossway and selected a narrow, meandering trail through the rubble. As Violet hurriedly followed it, it opened into a broad aisle, which was also closed at both ends. With this being her last hope of escape, she tried with all her strength to shift the heavy blockages at the right end to the side. Unsuccessful, she attempted the same at the left. Now the footsteps could be heard stumping down the path that she had just come through.

Violet's thoughts suddenly turned to Sunny and Klaus, who, although Violet did not know it, were just then climbing out of the other opening of the paper chute. She was frightened, but more for those who weren't there than herself. Her fear was that they were still in deep trouble even if they did make it through okay. She knew she must find a way to return to them; it was her duty, as the eldest Baudelaire, to watch after the younger children. With a trembling hand, Violet pulled her hair ribbon out of her pocket.

The ribbon was snatched from Violet's fingers. "_I'll_ be taking that," said Esmé angrily. "Now you find out what happens to ungrateful children who disrespect their superiors!" While she spoke she continued stepping closer to Violet, who was slowly backing up, trying to think. Esmé laughed. "Oh, Olaf will be so pleased to hear what I have!"

When Violet reached the blocked end of the passage and could move no farther, she suddenly turned around and hoisted herself up on top of the fallen file organizer. But once up, she felt Esmé's long fingernails seize her be the collar. "I don't think so," Esmé whispered icily in Violet's ear, then violently jerked her to the floor.

Violet gasped; Esmé pulled her to her feet roughly, still gripping Violet's shirt collar. "You'll never get what you want this way," Violet choke, staring at Esmé straight in the face.

Esmé leaned down to look Violet eye-to-eye. "We have ways of getting precisely what we wish for," she replied coldly. "Now, where are the others? What happened to Sunny and Klaus? And where is that file you were holding?"

"If you let me and my brother and sister go, we can show you the file, if you would like," said Violet with forced calmness, trying to encourage negotiation.

Esmé laughed again. "That's a good try, but you Baudelaire orphans have screwed up our plans for the last time! I'm afraid that now that you're in our hands, there's nothing you can do anymore, except for what we command you to. So, I am commanding you to tell me where your siblings are."

Slowly, Violet shook her head, frowning as she did so. "I don't know," she whispered sadly. It was the truth, and she was worried.

"Then we'll have to figure out something to do with you. Oh, we've been waiting for this day!"

Maintaining a strong hold on Violet, Esmé drew from her purse a radio. It was identical to the one that Count Olaf had had at the play. Violet felt ill, remembering. Esmé flicked up the antenna and spoke into the microphone, "Olaf, dear, are you there? Pick up."

The radio crackled, and a voice that Violet had come to recognize all too well responded to Esmé's call. "Yes, Gigi? I'm a bit busy at the moment. I just received the information from an inside source that the Snicket file may in fact be kept in this library after all!"

"Yes, that's very well, we can burn he place down in a little while," Esmé replied hastily, meaning "very fast because she wasn't interested in what her boyfriend was saying." "You've got to come down to the library, now, because I have the most wonderful surprise for you!" Violet struggled to free herself from Esmé's clutches.

There was a short pause before anyone spoke again. "You found the Snicket File?" Olaf guessed over the airway.

"No," said Esmé, bubbling with glee. "I have captured one of those brats we're after! The oldest one, Violet. The other's are somewhere in the building as well, they were just here."

"Excellent!" Olaf exclaimed ecstatically. "One down, and only two more to go. The Baudelaire fortune will be ours in no time! I'll be right over." The radio clicked off and was silent.

"You're in for it now, missy," Esmé hissed at Violet, smiling smugly to herself. "Olaf can come up with the most deliciously evil plot the world has seen!"

Without saying a word, Violet reached behind herself to pull Esmé's hand away from her neck, but Esmé had both of her delicate wrists pinned to the front of a filing cabinet in one fell swoop. Violet continued to twist and squirm in hope to pry herself from her captor's hands, but efforts proved to be futile.

"Years of lifting heavy shopping bags from _The In Shoppe_ have made my arms quite strong," Esmé explained. "So there's no use in trying to escape now. I can just see it: with the fortune in my hands I will be the innest person there is! Won't that be so wonderful! Money is very in; it always has been."

Violet could not care less about how in anyone was, but she knew that Esmé was just gloating over her victory. All that Violet could think about was her brother and her sister, and how it was very unlikely that she would ever see them again.

There is an expression, saying that "time flies when you're having fun." At times when you are thoroughly enjoying yourself, such as when you are on the Ferris Wheel at the fair or at a birthday party for your best friend, it seems as though time is moving much faster than it should, and suddenly the ride stops and the party is over, as it goes with most nice things. But time can also pass quicker than one would like when they are anticipating something terrible to happen. In such situations, a person needs all the time they have to think of a plan or run away, but that time is taken from them and their horrible fate is soon upon them. This was the case with poor Violet, who wished desperately that she would not have to face the man who was just then entering the room.

"Esmé!" Olaf shouted happily. "Where are… what happened in here?"

"We're over here!" Esmé called in Olaf's direction. Ofaf's footsteps approached as he searched for a way through the rubble. Violet jerked in one last attempt to break loose. She at last managed to wrench her arms from Esmé's grip and ran back down the path only to run head-on into none other than Count Olaf himself.

Olaf smiled broadly and evilly as Violet stepped backwards, dazed; Esmé tottered up from behind. "So," said Olaf, savoring every sinister word he spoke. "We meet again, Violet, and clearly, this time, you have the disadvantage. Perhaps you can explain why you did this to the library?" He waved his hand to indicate the mass of fallen cabinets.

"It wasn't me," said Violet angrily. "Nor Sunny or Klaus. We never did anything wrong."

"Oh, yes?" asked Olaf. "Then what were you doing in here after hours, when the entrance was supposed to be locked?"

Violet said nothing. She knew he had a point.

Count Olaf slowly leaned forward so his face was just a foot from Violet's and whispered maliciously, a fancy word for "evilly," "You will tell us where, exactly, your siblings are, or else," he paused dramatically, "There will be dire consequences." Esmé giggled joyfully.

Trembling and filled with fear, Violet shook her head again. Olaf calmly yet firmly gripped her shoulder.

"If you had married me when you had the chance, at the very beginning, all this trouble could have been avoided. But you insisted on continuing to put you, your brother, and your sister in danger. Now the only way you can get back out is by answering my question: Where are they?"

"I won't betray my family," Violet stated faintly. "You'd only hurt them."

"Now _you're_ the one who's going to get hurt!" Olaf spat as he shook Violet roughly. He released his grasp, straightened up, sighed, and said lightly, "Well, that leaves me no choice. What do you think, darling? I believe a cranioectomy is in order."

Esmé squealed and clapped her hands. "I'm so excited! I've never seen one of those before!"

"What?" Violet asked, confused. Normally, Klaus would have explained it to her.

"A cranioectomy," said Olaf slyly, grinning again, "Is a medical term for… a beheading!"

The shock ran down Violet's spine like ice water, and she stood frozen until Esmé and Olaf each took one of her arms and began leading her away.

During the entire journey out of the library and up the winding staircase, Count Olaf chattered happily about his plans. "This going to be fantastic!" he was saying to his girlfriend. "Just picture it now: the orphan gets her head cut off in front of an entire audience of spectators! Anyone who wants to can witness it!"

"But Olaf, dear," Esmé interrupted. "If we kill her in front of all those people, we'll never get away with it."

"The poor girl is terribly ill with a very rare disease that nobody has ever heard of before," Olaf explained. "And the only way she can be cured is by having a neck surgery which has a very high chance of death, but we have to risk it, otherwise she _will_ die."

"I _don't_ need surgery, and I'm perfectly healthy," Violet put in, breaking her long silence.

"That's not up for you to decide," Olaf retorted. They were now standing on a landing next to a door marked "surgical ward."

As Olaf pushed the door open with his open hand and tugged Violet through with the other, Esmé stated her worries again. "Her face has been all over the _Daily Punctilio_ for several days now. Everyone will recognize her as one of those escaped murderers of Jacques Snicket. They'll try to stop the procedure as soon as they see her."

"You're forgetting, Esmé," Olaf reassured her. "My troupe and I are quite clever with disguises, if I may say so myself."

Promptly as he mentioned them, the members of Count Olaf's theatre troupe all came out of a doorway a short distance down the hall. Each one was wearing a long, white coat over their normal clothes and had on medical masks and rubber gloves. A dusty white wig had been placed on top of the bald man. He was the first to step forward and address Olaf.

"We have a room prepared, boss," he said. "Would you like us to take the girl?"

"Yes, please do," Olaf answered, and he shoved Violet forward into the greedy hands of his fellow troupe members. "The room _must_ be guarded at all times, and no one else will be allowed to speak with her. I hope that tomorrow morning's announcement will lure the other brats here, they'll no doubt try to save her, we just cannot let them succeed, and if we're lucky we can catch them while they're at it. And don't bother me for a while; being head of human resources now, I have an important medical procedure to plan." He smiled icily briefly at Violet, who was horrified with her predicament, a long word which means "very bad situation."

The troupe members ushered Violet into a small room at the end of the hallway. Violet had barely any time to look around before the two white-faced women forced a hospital gown, speckled with various stains from past years over her head and on her. "Be sure to get some rest; you're sick, you know," one of them said, and pulled her back onto a hard bed with thin sheets. The hook-handed man proceeded to clumsily strap a cuff tightly to her arm. All the while the person who Violet never figured out if they were a man or a woman stood outside the door, watching the hall.

"What's the monitor for?" the bald man demanded.

"It was the Count's idea, rather clever, I'd say," the hook-handed man said, gesturing with his hooks. "To all people who happen to glance in through that little window on the door, it appears to be an innocent device to periodically check the girl's blood pressure, while it is really keeping her from escaping."

As he spoke, Violet looked to her side and saw that not only was it attached by a wire but a chain as well, and that the strap around her upper arm was clamped shut with a small lock in the center.

"Well, it is late and I am tired. Rest well," the bald man said to Violet. "And enjoy your last night." He walked out of the room.

"Of you give us any trouble at all, you won't get away with it this time," the hook-handed man warned. "You can't go anywhere, so don't try." He left also.

One of the white-faced women pointed her finger dangerously at Violet. "I would kill you right now if I could," she said fiercely. "You've caused us too much grief to let you do as you please anymore."

Just as the two women left, Count Olaf and Esmé entered the room. Esmé snatched up Violet's right arm and Olaf placed around her wrist a plastic bracelet. Violet jerked her arm back and read the name printed on the wristband: "Laura V. Bleediote."

"That's not my name," Violet stated blandly.

"It will be as far as anyone else is concerned, for now," Olaf snapped back. "I see that you've settled in nicely. I don't suppose you want to tell us where Sunny and Klaus are." He sat down next to her and stared at her coldly. "It could save your life, you know, or at least make your death a lot less painful."

Violet would not answer, and was not listening to Olaf's temptations fully, either. She stared intently at her hands, which were shaking with fear and anger. Olaf reached for her arm. She jumped up and away, discovering that she could move about for a short distance on her chain. "Your intentions are nothing but evil! There's nothing that you can offer me that will make me betray my siblings," she shouted, full of hatred of the man who had caused her and her brother and sister so much woe in their lives since the day they had moved in with him.

"So you wouldn't be interested in hearing what's in the Snicket File, then," said Olaf calmly.

Suddenly excited, yet terrified at the same time, Violet held still to think. "You have the Snicket File?" she asked slowly.

"Oh, so you _do_ know about it," said Olaf. "That's very interesting, you've found out much more than I thought you had. Do you know what VFD is, too?"

Violet thought for a moment, then nodded uncertainly. "Yes, and we just sent them a letter informing them where we are," she lied, hoping to earn herself an advantage, but knew she was unsuccessful when Olaf snorted humorously and shook his head. "Do you have the Snicket File?" Violet repeated.

"No," said Olaf. "But we do know what it says. Perhaps we can settle for an exchange of information."

"Alright, you may go first."

"I don't think so. After all, I am the one holding your life in my hands."

"You'd kill me anyway, and then you'd get my siblings. What use would some file, that you could be making up entirely, be to me?" Violet spoke bravely, but was quite nervous now.

"I think you'd find the file very intriguing. And if the two other orphans are out of the way, then we may keep you alive until you are old enough to get us the Baudelaire fortune."

"Then you'd kill Sunny and Klaus!" Violet would not allow herself to be interested in Olaf's offers anymore.

"Very well," Olaf sighed, and stood up. "I'll leave you to yourself." He began to walk away and beckoned for Esmé to follow, but stopper at the door to turn and face Violet again. "By the way," he said, and pulled a large, green apple out of his lab coat pocket. "Are you feeling hungry?"

Violet eyed the apple suspiciously, suspecting a poisoning. But she figured that if she was to be killed the next day anyway, they would not be about to poison her. "I suppose so," she said. It had been a long time since she had eaten a decent meal.

Count Olaf returned the apple to his pocket. "I'm sorry," he sneered. "No food this close to surgery." Esmé and Olaf left the room, and locked the door behind them.

Sitting back down on the rickety bed, Violet dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of the gown she was wearing. She was so upset, so angry at all had just happened, and she couldn't help feeling slightly at fault for it. If she hadn't helped steal the keys if she hadn't broken into the library after hours, she and her siblings would still be together. It was apparent that they had not been captured yet, but that still meant that they were alone in the cold, dirty, unfinished half of the hospital. They were probably worried sick about her, and couldn't do anything to help. There was nothing that she could do for them, either.

For several minutes Violet cried quietly into the dusty sheets on the bed, thinking that they all had come to a point where everything was hopeless. She thought of all that they had been through, all that was happening, and all tat was to come. She had always been able to get them out of trouble in some way. But then, she thought, there must be something she could come up with, even if she was on her own. She would just have to make do without an extra pair of hands or her hair ribbon.

The room was fairly empty. There was the bed, which seemed to be falling apart; a paper-thin pillow; and a couple of mottled, another word for "spotted," spare blankets. Next to the bed was a metal folding chair. On the other side was a small shelf with the blood-pressure monitor sitting on it. In the far corner, under a closed cupboard, was a counter with a sink and a stack of paper cups. On one wall was a window. Just enough to work with.

Before starting anything else, Violet unplugged the monitor. Still chained to the wall, she could not wander farther than the bed. She peered underneath it. Just like she had figured, the nails were coming loose, and she was able to pull one out easily. Working quickly, lest someone would come to check up and catch her, she ripped the cloth and wires of the strap around her arm with the nail along a seam, and she was free.

Moving fast, she ran and checked the cupboard. It was filled with cans of alphabet soup, and nothing else. Back at the bed, Violet hastily tore each of the blankets and sheets into long pieces, close to five inches thick. She tied the strips end to end with the devil's-tongue knot. Her mind was focused entirely on her escape.

One end of her makeshift rope Violet tied to the folding chair, which she had pushed next to the window. With some difficulty, because it was so old and rusted, she slid open the window and threw the rope out. Looking down, Violet estimated that she was about five stories high, and the rope hung just a few feet about the ground. The sun was rising swiftly in the East.

Before she climbed down, Violet decided to bring what resources she could get. She used the nail again to puncture several of the paper cups, then the severed cord through the holes. It made a nice utility belt of sorts, and she tied it around her waist. In each of the cups she placed a can of alphabet soup, so she and Sunny and Klaus would have something else to eat once they were reunited.

Now she was ready to leave. Violet tugged the rope twice to make sure that it was strong enough, and then proceeded to crawl out the open window.

Something caught Violet by the belt and pulled her back into the room. A hook took her by the shoulder and turned her around. The hook-handed man stood scowling at her.

"We should have been expecting some sort of escape attempt by you," he growled. "You can never just give up and accept the fact that there's nothing you can do! You orphans have given us enough trouble as it is already, but I can guarantee you, we will get the last laugh!" He threw the chair out the window and slammed it shut. "We'll find the others without your help! No more second chances for you!"

"What about you?" Violet asked timidly. "I believe everyone deserves a second chance, including yourself. You still have time to do the right thing, and make people proud of you! I've done what I could, and I know Sunny and Klaus wouldn't be disappointed in me. And I know I won't be disappointed in them, either. They probably already have a plan to rescue me." Again, she was speaking with much more bravado than she had, and she had severe doubts that anyone could save her now. But after she was gone, she knew that her siblings would do all that they could to piece this mystery and their shattered lives together. "Family never lets each other down."

The hook-handed man became suddenly sullen. "Oh, yes they do," he said. "Sure, that's what they tell you, but soon their motivation changes to suit themselves, and when you least expect it they've turned around and are stabbing you in the back!"

"Not everyone is like that," Violet said quietly and firmly. "You should learn that your best interests shouldn't be in yourself, but in all others. If everyone would live like that, then nobody would ever be in need anymore, and no one would be jealous of anyone else."

"You'll have a hard time convincing the world that, especially once you're dead," the hook-handed man sniffed, then said into his radio, "Boss, we've got a failed code-orange escape attempt. I might need some backup help here."

After a few seconds of static, Olaf's voice came over the radio. "We're almost ready here; Esmé has the anesthesia prepared. Just keep an eye on her until we get there, it should only be a few minutes."

"Roger that, boss. I'll make sure it won't happen again." He put away the radio and walked over to examine the damaged blood-pressure monitor. "I must admit, I couldn't have broken loose myself. You must be very clever… but not clever enough, I'm afraid."

Violet deigned, the past tense of the verb "deign," which means "to lower," her eyes towards the floor, and gritted her teeth. If anything now could save her, it would have to happen very fast. She was completely out of ideas.

A loud, cheerful knock came from the door. Taking a deep breath, Violet stared out the window, wishing her fate hadn't come so soon. But instead of hearing the voices of the people she was dreading, there was the sound of a guitar and a chorus of "We Are the Volunteers Fighting Disease." Her heart leapt, not literally, but she felt considerably more hopeful.

"Brothers!" she shouted, running to the door. "Sisters!" I'm not sick anymore! But I'm glad you came! Now we can leave and cheer up the other patients!"

"Ignore the girl!" the hook-handed man screamed, and darted in front of Violet. He held the door closed against the invading volunteers and locked it. "She really needs her rest!"

One of the volunteers called through the tiny window, "This is Laura, isn't she? Her surgery is in les than an hour, so couldn't we visit her for just a moment, to make her feel better about it?"

"Please!" Violet cried back. "I don't need surgery! I'm fine! Come get me…"

She was cut off as the hook-handed man shoved her against the wall, his hooks pressing hard into her throat. "If you say one more word…" he warned.

"Of course you need surgery," another volunteer said. "That's why you're in the surgical ward."

"Precisely!" the hook-handed man agreed. "She's just a bit confused, it would be the best if she were left alone." Violet made a motion to slap her captor's arms aside, but stopped when his hooks squeezed tighter.

"Can we at least give her a heart shaped balloon?" a lady asked.

"What's going on here?" Count Olaf's forcedly calm voice said from outside. "Everybody move, we don't need you bothering us, she might try to esc… I mean, this is a life-threatening emergency! We need it quiet to work!"

"What about the balloon?"

A loud popping sound came from behind the door, and Olaf demanded once more that the volunteers leave. "You may visit her in post-op," he told them, and the volunteers left for the next room reluctantly, yet singing happily all the way.

The door burst open and Olaf stormed in, followed by Esmé and the rest of the troupe, minus the two white-faced women. "Our plan won't work if the girl's already dead, you know," he said to the hook-handed man, who released his grip. Violet slid slowly to the floor, gasping for air. Count Olaf yanked her up by her arm and thrust her onto the bed. "Finally… finally…" he muttered. "One of our problems shall cease to exist…"

Esmé set a small case on the counter, snapped it open, and removed from it a syringe. "Don't worry, it's just a quick prick and you won't remember anything afterwards," she said sweetly, as though talking to a young child. "It will be very fast, a you'll never feel any pain. Isn't it everyone's wish to either live forever or die young?"

The troupe gathered around the choking Violet as Esmé stepped forward. She picked up Violets arm and stretched it towards herself. Violet tried to pull away but found she didn't have the energy. She looked to the side and gasped as the injection penetrated her skin. Her arm was released. The troupe members be

"Now," said Olaf mockingly. "Just relax, and count backwards from one hundred by thirteens…"

While most people would start counting and be asleep by the time they reached sixty-one, Violet's only thoughts were that it was truly over this time, and that Sunny and Klaus would have to solve the mystery of their lives on their own. The triumphant laughter from the troupe was fading. All light and color blurred, dimmed, and then turned black. Violet knew no more.


End file.
